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JCKLAND CEMETERY 
ILLUSTRATED 



" Here, in the silent forest solitudes, 

Deep in the quiet of these lonely shades, 
The angelic peace of heaven forever broods, 
And his own presence fills the solemn glades. 

"Cease, my weak soul, the courts of men to tread. 
Leave the tumultuous heavings of thy kind. 
And, by the soul of grateful nature led. 

Seek the still woods, and there thy Sabbath find. 

" Shall worship only live in pillared domes — 

The organ's pealing notes sole anthems raise — 
While every wind that through the forest roams, 

Draws from its whispering boughs a chant of praise ? 

*' Here the thick leaves that sceni the tremulous air 
Let the bright sunshine pass with softened light, 
And lips unwonted breathe instinctive prayer. 
In these cool arches filled with verdurous night. 

"There needs no bending knee, no costly shrine. 
No fluctuant crowd to hail divinity : 
Here the heart kneels, and owns the love divine 
That made for man the earth so fair and free. 

" Dear is the choral hymn, the murmuring sound 
Of mutual prayer, and words of holy power ; 
But give to me the forest's awe profound, 
^olian hymns, and sermons from a flower !" 



ROCKLAND CEMETERY 

ILLUSTRATED 

SUGGESTIONS AND ASSOCIATIONS 

CONNECTED WITH IT 

AND 

A BRIEF STATEMENT OF THE SUPERIOR- 
ADVANTAGES PRESENTED 

TO 

THOSE WHO DESIRE BEAUTIFUL RESTING 
PLACES FOR THEIR DEAD 

BV 

WILLIAM WALES 



MAY 2 1883^ 



NEW YORK 
ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH «& COMPANY 

900 BROADWAY, COR. 20th STREET 



Coi'VRIGHT, 1881, 

BY WM. H. WHITON 



Manufacturtd by 

S. W. GREEN'S SON, 

14 & "6 BeekmaQ St., 

NEW YOKK. 



CONTE NTS. 



PAGE 

I. Regard for the Loved and Lost . . i3 

IL The Last Resting-Place ... 21 

in. Tributes to the Departed . . .29 

IV. The Grave as a Home . ■ • 37 

V. The Sea as a Place of Sepulchre . . 47 

VI. The Dead whose Graves are Shrines for the 

Race . . • • • • 55 

VII. The Graves of Heroes . . • -65 

VIII. The Graves of the Lowly in Spirit . 73 

IX. Influence of the Loved Dead on the Living 79 

X. Cremation revolting to Humanity . . 89 

XI. The ASSUR.A.NCE of Immunity for the Dead . 95 

XII. Where the Dead are to find a Resting-Place 105 

XIII. The Origin of Rockland Cemetery . . m 

XIV. The Carrying out of the Design . . n? 
XV. The Cemetery and its Surroundings . . 123 

XVI. The Fourth and Last Plateau . • 129 

XVII. Route to Rockland Cemetery . . . i37 

XVIII. More desirable and less costly Methods of 

Interment . . • • • ^43 

The Paradox of Time .... 149-50 

Organization, Rules and Regulations . . 152 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

Forest View from Cliff Path .... 3 

Entrance Gate and Receiving Tomb . . 11 

South View near Main Entrance . . .19 

Crystal Spring Glen, Main Avenue . . 27 

Entrance from Glen on First Plateau . . -St 

Northern View from First Plateau . . 45 

Southern View from First Plateau . . -53 

Northwestern View from Second Plateau . 63 

[Showing the Ramapo Mountains in the distance.] 

Southwestern View from Second Plateau . . 71 

[Shows Palisade range to Hoboken, the line of the Northern Railroad 
of New Jersey, the villages of Norwood, Closter, Tenafly, and Engle- 
wood ; and nearer the observer, the headquarters of Gen. Washington, 
Tappan Church, in which Andre was tried and convicted, the house in 
which he was confined as a prisoner, and the monument recently erected 
by Dean Stanley and Cyrus W. Field to mark the spot of the unfortunate 
officer's e.xecution and burial.] 

South-south-east View from Second Plateau . 77 

[Showing the village of Sparkill, N. Y., the Palisade range, and the 
Westchester hills on the opposite side of the Hudson river below Dobbs 
Ferry, and Hastings.] 

Interior View on Main Avenue . . . .87 

Interior View on Main Avenue near Reservoir . 93 



10 List of Illustrations. 

PAGE 

West View from Main Avenue .... 103 

[Showing the Hackensack hills and valley, the Orange and Ramapo 
Mountains, and in the far distance the peaks of the Shawangunk and 
Alleghanies.] 

Vista looking South from near Summit of Main 
Avenue ....... 109 

North View from Summit of Third or Hudson River 
Plateau . . . . . . .115 

[Showing Hook Mountain and west shore of Tappan Zee.] 

View to the South from Summit of Third Plateau 121 

[Showing Reformed Church at the base of Taulman's Mountain in 
Piermont, the Hudson River, the village of Hastings, the adjoining hills.] 

View to the South-east from Third Plateau . 127 

[Showing village of Piermont, the Sparkill meadows, Tappan Zee, 
village of Dobbs Ferry, and the Westchester hills in the distance.] 

View to the North-east from Third oii Hudson 

River Plateau ...... 135 

[The village of Nyack and Hook Mountain on the left, Tappan Zee and 
the villages of Tarrytown and Sing Sing on the further shore.] 

View directly East from Summit of Third Plateau 141 

[Showing the Boat-house of the Piermont Rowing Association, Tap- 
pan Zee, with Irvington and Sunnyside, the home of Washington Irving, 
on the opposite bank.] 

Map of the Cemetery . . . , „ 147 



REGARD FOR THE LOVED AND LOST. 



If there is any sentiment whatever that, in the 
history of the world from the earhest times, dis- 
tinguishes the highly refined and cultivated nation 
from the half-civilized or savage one, it is regard 
for the memory and care of the dead ; and conse- 
quently, if we study the character and significance 
of those marvellous structures which as architec- 
tural wonders are most renowned for their an- 
tiquity, their stupendous proportions, or their cost 
and elegance, we shall find them, from the earliest 
period of the world's history, generally the fruit 
of tender regret and love, or admiration for those 
whose departure from earth has made a void to 
be marked whilst there is a hope of keeping the 
remembrance of the valued one alive in the human 
heart. 

And in this regard it is little to the human race 



14 Rockland Cemetery. 

that Time destroys even tablets of brass ; that with 
ruthless touch he crumbles into dust and nothing- 
ness the fairest and noblest monuments erected by 
man ; but whilst we know this, know that the per- 
chance fragile memorial which holds its place for 
a while is 

"Like a flag floating when the bark's engulfed," 

it yet signalizes, at least for the time being to the 
world around, where went down the noble argosy 
freighted with so much of love and all most valued 
by some on earth ; laden with all that friends 
cherish and weep over here below, become even 
more precious to the remembrance when reft from 
us forever. 

Without going backward to Nineveh or Egypt 
for proof of the strength and the exemplification 
of this abiding and almost universal feeling in the 
heart of man, we may note that some of the fairest 
monuments of Greek and Roman art have been 
tributes to the sentiment we have indicated ; and 
apart from the marvellous cost and beauty of 
many of these ancient structures built to com- 
memorate the departed, there is not in the litera- 
ture of all the past, or of the present, anything 
more noteworthy than the pathos and beauty and 
poetry of those inscriptions and tributes which 



The Loved and Lost. 15 

would embalm, if possible, the regret for the loss 
sustained. 

We give one of these, not excelled in beauty in 
any language : 

THE TRYST. 

"The lady of my love — she waits for me 

At our lone trysting-place : the sinking sun 
Scatters its web of golden broidery 

The sombre sward upon ; 
Behind the eastern slope of the far height 

The vanward shadows of the twilight wait, 
Perhaps my lady prays — delay, O Night ! — 

My plighted one is late. 

" Patient she is and calm — she does not speak. 
But tranquil as with inward peace composed, 
With long dark eyelashes drooping on her cheek, 

And soft brown eyes fast closed ; 
My dedicated one doth meekly wait, 
Yet why he lingers, still forbears to ask. 

"The clouds that troop around the sunset's gate 

Play out their gorgeous masque ; 
And the day dieth : from the hollows creep 

Night's weird and ghostly husbandmen to sow 
The darkness on the upland and the steep — 

She does not turn to go ! 

"Lonely she waits where hour succeeds to hour. 
Nor any moving thing the stillness breaks, 
Save where, beside her grave, the wind;bowed flower 
Its quaint obeisance makes. 



i6 Rockland Cemetery. 

"So, hold thy tryst; nor grieve that he delays 
Whose lingering steps ruled and appointed be ; 

My course may lie through many devious ways, 
Yet every river finds at last the sea ; 

And I am faring through this tangled maze 
To keep my tryst with thee." 

" Weep not lor the friend you have lost, for your 
tears cannot bring him again !" was the cold and 
philosophic remark of the ancient sage to the friend 
bereaved ; but how natural and touching the reply : 
"It is for that very reason I weep" ! 

Although we know that all our tributes to the 
dead are to them in vain ; that 

"Flattery cannot soothe the dull cold ear of death ;" 

there is yet that in the human heart, in its deep 
love and cherished recollections and soitow, that 
will not be denied expression ; something that in- 
sists on making a shrine of its affections and asso- 
ciations with the loved and lost ; for 

" When Death, the Great Reconciler, has come, it 
is never our tenderness that we repent of, but our 
severity." 

It does not change or soften the poignancy of 
grief or remorse to know that pity for the dead is 
for them too late ; that the tears which water the 



The Loved and Lost. 17 

graves of the departed are as futile to awaken any 
feelings or evidences of forgiveness for neglect, as 
are the rain-drops which fall upon the sheltering 
sod. And so, while the victim of remorse — real or 
fancied — comes with tearful offerings of affection 
to try to redeem the sad past, and whilst all feel 
and know that the unconscious dust can never 
again respond to the once loved voice, yet, invol- 
untarily perhaps, the doctrine of the immortality 
of the soul here asserts itself, in the form of a faint 
hope and trust that the aggrieved spirit, hovering 
near, may accept the offering of tears and deep 
contrition proffered thus by the repentant mourner 
at the grave of the loved and lost. 

" Alas for heedless hearts and blinded sense ! 

With what faint welcome and what meagre fare, 
What mean subjections and small recompense, 
We entertain our angels unaware'!" 

And if, as some writer well expresses it, and as 
the " Bard of all Time" shows in one of his won- 
drously subtle delineations of human passion, Grief 
is "fantastic" at times, it is perhaps one of those 
extravagances which even the thoughtless and 
frivolous of the world at large excuse, pardoning 
in pity the manifestation of a sentiment only par- 
tially understood. 



i8 Rockland Cemetery. 

And so it is that although the tribute to the 
loved dead may, as a work of art simply, be un- 
couth ; a violation of the lines- of beauty and of 
classical taste — indeed, of almost all we look for 
and regard in harmony of proportion or in ex- 
pression even ; yet as the strong and sought to be 
abiding testimonial of love, of inextinguishable re- 
gard, it yet has a value priceless to the bereaved, 
to the community and generation which would 
commemorate worth and talent ; and thus should 
not be lightly regarded, even by those most ex- 
acting in their demands for the fitting and the 
beautiful. 



II. 

THE LAST RESTING-PLACE. 



If the whole world of art has demonstrated 
from earliest antiquity the existence of passions, 
of sentiments of grief, of uncontrollable affection 
in mortals that must find expression in monuments 
to and mementos of the dead, the sites for many 
of these magnificent testimonials no less show the 
love, the fond regard and admiration which seeks 
beauty of location in which to place the remains 
of friends thus lost. 

Upon grand promontories by the sea, as with 
the old Greeks, and later in the choicest and most 
beautiful localities in and around cities ; in parks 
or squares, and beneath the costliest edifices, men 
have placed their dead ; and however some may 
coldly reason on the futility of grief, however we 
may assert for ourselves or others that " the dead 



22 Rockland Cemetery. 

know not anything," yet the sunniest spot where 
the wild flowers bloom, the bee hums, and the birds 
sing, appears a natural and indispensable tribute 
and return to departed loved ones by the great 
majority of civilized and Christian peoples ; or if 
the grandeur of a cathedral seems perhaps needful 
to concentrate human regard and admiration upon 
the departed great, no sacrifice in this particular 
seems too considerable, no offering too costly, 
with those who survive. 

And if we were to make an attempt to measure 
the depth of grief in some instances by the vast 
cost of temples and monuments reared as memo- 
rials of the loss and anguish suffered, the effort 
would utterly fail, since in this one sad particular 
none, from the palace to the cot, can be exempt. 
That almost miracle of architectural beauty and 
imperial cost and splendor, the " Taj Mahal " of 
India, simply tells the story of one bereaved human 
heart seeking solace, however poor and inadequate, 
in almost priceless sacrifice — in an attempt at self- 
consolation only to be found at last in the hopes of 
immortality and reunion beyond the reach of Time 
and Change. 

Once more we quote from one of those loving 
and beautiful tributes which abound to the mem- 
ory of 



The Last Resting-place. 23 



THE DEAD. 

" How beautiful is the memory of the dead ! What 
a holy thing it is in the human heart, and what a 
chastening influence it sheds upon human life ! How 
it subdues all the harshness that grows within us in 
the daily intercourse with the world ! How it melts 
our kindness, and softens our pride, kindling our 
deepest love, and waking our highest aspirations ! Is 
there one who has not some loved friend gone into 
the eterfial world with whom he delights to live again 
in memory? Does he not love to sit down in the 
hushed and tranquil hours of existence, and call 
around him the face, the form, so familiar and 
cherished— to look into the eyes that mirror not 
more clearly his own face than the soul which he 
loves — to listen to the tones which were once melody 
in his ear, and have echoed softly in his heart since 
they were hushed" to his senses ? 

" Is there a spirit to which heaven is not brought 
nearer by holding some kindred soul ? How friends 
follow to the happy dwelling-place of the dead, till 
we find at length that they who love us on the heav- 
enly shore are more than they who dwell among us ! 
Every year witnesseth the departure of some one 
whom we knew and loved; and when we recall the 



24 Rockland Cemetery. 

names of all who have been dear to lis in life, how 
many of them we see passed into that city which is 
imperishable ! 

" The blessed dead ! how free from stain is our love 
for them ! The earthly taint of our affections is 
buried with that which was corruptible, and the 
divine flame in its purity illumes our breast. We 
have now no fears of losing them. They are fixed 
forms eternally in the mansions prepared for our 
reunion. We shall find them waiting for us in their 
garments of beauty. 

" The glorious dead ! how reverently we speak then 
names ! Our hearts are sanctified by their words 
which we remember. How wise they have become 
by the undying fountains of pleasure ! The immortal 
dead ! how unchanging is their love for us ! How 
tenderly they look down upon us, and how closely 
they surround us ! How earnestly they rebuke the 
evil of our lives ! 

"Let us talk pleasantly of the dead, as those who 
no longer pursue the fleeting, but have grasped and 
secured the real. With them the fear and the long- 
ing, the hope, and the terror, and the pain are passed; 
the fruition of life has begun. How unkind that 
when we put away their bodies we should cease the 
utterance of their names ! 

" The tender-hearted dead, who so struggle in the 
starting from us. Why should we speak of them in 



The Last Resting-place. 25 

awe, and remember them only with sighing? Very 
dear were they when hand clasped liand, and heart 
responded to heart ; why less dear since grown 
worthy a higher love than ours, and their perfected 
souls might receive even our adoration by the hearth- 
side and by the grave-side, in solitude and amid the 
multitude? Think cheerfully and speak lovingly of 
the dead." 

In all that we have thus far considered, the prin- 
ciples of love and resulting regret enthroned in 
human nature are the same — the cherishing of fond 
memories, by whatever means, of those who have 
been dear to us in life. And although to most is 
denied the power to erect any very costly memo- 
rials in brass or marble of the love and sorrow 
which follow the departed, yet not the less may 
the tribute rendered be fitting and significant and 
beautiful ; not the less by calling the glories of 
Nature to our aid, and thus in its floral splendors 
and its rich scenery may we find some consola- 
tion — so far as Love and Grief can find it — in 
these priceless gifts of the Creator to man. 

"There is no Death! What seems so is transition. 
This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian 

Whose portal we call Death. 



26 Rockland Cemetery. 

" In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, 
By guardian angels led 
Safe from temptations, safe from sin's pollution, 
She lives ! whom zve call dead. 

" In her Father's mansion 

Clothed with celestial grace ; 
And beautiful with all the soul's expression 
Shall we behold her face." 



III. 



TRIBUTES TO THE DEPARTED. 



" I see thee still : 
Thou art not in the tomb confined ; 
Death cannot claim the immortal mind ; 
Let earth close o'er its sacred trust, 
Yet goodness dies not in the dust ; 
Thee, O beloved ! 'tis not thee 
Beneath the cofBn's lid I see ; 
Thou to a fairer land art gone — 
There, let me hope, my journey done. 
To see thee still." 

We have already alluded to the many striking 
and varying forms the expression of Love and 
Grief takes, and have noted the eloquent and sur- 
passing pathos which in all ages of the world, and 
amongst refined and cultivated peoples, has been 
called out by these passions — apostrophes to affec- 
tion, to numberless esteemed qualities and loving 



30 Rockland Cemetery. 

traits with which death has at last hallowed the 
departed, just as the glorious tints of a setting sun 
might light up and color with golden effulgence 
the scenes obscured or dark with the mists and 
clouds of a day of storms. 

About to disappear from us forever in the silence 
of the grave, how fondly memory calls up and 
dwells upon virtues of the dead hardly estimated 
aright before, upon the many noble or loving traits 
in life perhaps overlooked, and how with tearful 
eagerness we hasten to vainly make some amends 
to the inanimate form soon to be taken from our 
sight forever ! 

Whatever is associated with the end of hfe — 
with What has been well termed the " supreme 
moment" — must always be of intense interest to 
all ; and so it is that with numbers, the last ten- 
ement is looked upon as indeed a place of re- 
pose, and, as such, to be surrounded with all the 
soothing and consolatory emblems and accompani- 
ments within reach of surviving kindred and lov- 
ing friends. In the light of this every-day obser- 
vation, the relation of an illustrative incident of 
travel may serve to emphasize the views above 
advanced, and perhaps be considered not inappro- 
priate or untimely. 

A walk on one occasion through the extensive 



Tributes to the Departed. 31 

graveyard of Marseilles, France, revealed a great 
many tasteful monuments, the locality being on a 
high and charming plateau overlooking the mag- 
nificent bay opening on the Mediterranean outside 
the harbor proper. Here was to be seen at one 
spot a beautiful white marble tomb in the form of 
a miniature Greek temple, just large enough for 
the visitor to enter through an iron door of open 
work, a pretty altar filling the rear part of the 
structure— and this appeared at all times crowned 
with choice flowers. Indeed, the costly and exquis- 
itely designed little edifice was quite surrounded 
with these appropriate tributes of affection; and 
whilst our attention was absorbed in the contem- 
plation of a sight so rare, a testimonial so tasteful 
and so strongly appealing to the best sentiments of 
human nature, the spot was approached by an 
elderly lady, who, proceeding to enter and dust 
the interior, to supply fresh flowers for the altar 
and tend with loving care the whole place, in- 
formed the tourist from over the sea, that for five 
years she had '^ never failed for a single week" 
to visit this beautiful resting-place of a departed 
mother and sister. 

Well may we ask, after such a manifestation as 

this, 

"Is human love so very frail a thing?" 



32 Rockland Cemetery. 

Listen to the lament of one more bereaved heart : 

"An hour before, she spoke of things 
That memory to the dying brings, 

And kissed me all the while ; 
Then, after some sweet parting words, 
She seemed among her flowers and birds, 

Until she fell asleep. 

" 'Twas summer then ; 'tis autumn now ; 
The crimson leaves fall off the bough, 

And strew the gravel sweep ; 
I wander down the garden walk, 
And muse on all the happy talk 

We had beneath the limes. 

"Of golden eves, %vhen she and I 
Sat watching here the flushing sky. 

The sunset and the sea ; 
Or heard the children in the lanes. 
Following home the harvest wains. 

And shouting in their glee. 

" But when the daylight dies away. 
And ships grow dusky in the bay. 

These recollections cease ; 
And in the stillness of the night. 
Bright thoughts, that end in dreams as bright, 

Communicate their peace. 

" I wake and see the morning star, 
And hear the breakers on the bar, 



Tributes to the Departed. 33 

The voices on the shore ; 
And then, with tears, I long to be 
Across a dim, unsounding sea. 

With her for evermore." 

We are called upon to part with the beautiful 
and good, and again the inquiry arises : 

" Why is it that the rainbow and the cloud come 
over us with a beauty that is not of earth, and then 
pass away, and leave us to muse on faded loveliness? 
Why is it that the stars that hold their nightly festi- 
val around the midnight throne are placed above the 
reach of our limited faculties, forever mocking us with 
their unapproachable glory? and why is it that the 
bright forms of human beauty are presented to our 
view and then taken from us, leaving the thousand 
streams of affection to flow back in almighty torrents 
upon the human heart ? We are born of a larger 
destiny than that of earth. There is a land where 
the stars will be set out before us, like islands that 
slumber in the ocean, and where the beautiful beings 
that pass before us like meteors will stay in our 
presence forever." 



34 Rockland Cemetery. 



THE DEAD. 



" Forget not the Dead, who have loved, who have left us, 
Who bend o'er us now from their bright homes above ; 
But believe — never doubt — that the God who bereft us 
Permits them to mingle with friends they still love. 

" Repeat their fond words, all their noble deeds cherish, 
Speak pleasantly of them who left us in tears ; 
Other joys may be lost, but their names should not perish, 
While Time bears our feet through the valley of years. 

" Dear friends of our youth ! Can we cease to remember 
The last look of life, and tne low-whispered prayer ? 
Oh, cold be our hearts as the ice of December 

When Love's tablets record no remembrances there ! 

" Then forget not the Dead, who are evermore nigh us, 
Still floating sometimes to our dream-haunted bed ; 
In the loneliest hour, in the crowd, they are by us. 
Forget not the Dead ! Oh, forget not the Dead ! " 



IV. 

THE GRAVE AS A HOME. 



In this view of making a home for the dead a 
place even for the association of surviving friends 
with them, it seems a notable thing also, in this 
period of the world's history and advancement, 
that the end of life and its certain consequences 
are becoming more and more what these were to 
the most refined nations of antiquity, the tomb 
with them being regarded as a not unwelcome 
rest from the toils and the trials of existence. 

The ideas so strongly put forth and cherished in 
mediaeval times, that only emblems of horror were 
fitting and profitable in contemplating death, are 
fast giving way to a more consolatory, if not abso- 
lutely inspiriting view of the case. Men no longer 
deem it the height of religious inspiration, and as 
a preparation for the last hour, to kneel before 



38 Rockland Cemetery. 

ghastly relics of the catacombs ; they no longer — 
the more wise and contemplative — look upon the 
inevitable and natural ending of life as an inflic- 
tion, a punishment, something to be thought of 
and approached with utter reluctance and horror 
by the world of humanity. But reconciled to this 
supreme inevitable by the enlightening and con- 
soling outlook upon a better life, a future bright 
with promise to those who will accept it as such, 
the burden of existence is laid down by myriads 
as men seek rest at the close of a summer day's 
toil. Or, seeking shelter as the winter of life over- 
takes them, they many times accept the tomb as a 
place of refuge unspeakably welcome from storm 
and change, or from infirmities no longer easily 
borne by the worn and tired wayfarer toward a 
brighter and better world. 

"Death is Birth. No man who is fit to live need 
fear to die. Poor, faithless souls that we are ! How 
we shall smile at our vain alarms when the worst has 
happened ! To us here death is the most terrible 
word we know. But, when we have tasted its reality, 
it will mean to us birth, deliverance, a new creation 
of ourselves. It will be what health is to the sick 
man. It will be what home is to the exile. It will 
be what the loved one given back is to the bereaved. 
As we draw near to it a solemn gladness should fill 



The Grave as a Home. 39 

our hearts. It is God's great morning lighting up 
the sky. Our fears are the terrors of children in the 
night. The night, with its terrors, its darkness, is 
passing away; and when we awake it will be into 
God's sunlight." 

" They will not understand it is death I want," 
was the oft-repeated plaint of one of the oldest 
and greatest of earth's intellectual toilers; and 
when at last the visitor and deliverer so often in- 
voked came, what friend or admirer did not recog- 
nize that to the sufferer death was indeed a boon, 
a glad or welcome release ? 

Well may it be said of the refuge thus kindly 
provided, and of the world's tired ones : 

" O Land ! O Land ! 
For all the broken-hearted: 
The mildest herald by our faith allotted 
Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand, 
To lead us, with a gentle hand, 
Into the land of the great departed — 
Into the Silent Land !" 

As Time more and more asserts his power. Am- 
bition and all its noisy brood less and less assert 
theirs, until most men naturally become subdued 
and reconciled to the final inevitable. The few 
grieve not so much over the strength and manl}^ 



40 Rockland Cemetery. 

graces lost, or, with the gentler sex, the beauty 
which has taken its departure, as over the changes 
too often wrought by Time in the human heart ; 
in the changed expression of the eye ; the less and 
less fervent grasp of the hand on meeting ; perhaps 
on the failure of a recognition altogether, as those 
casually meet who joyously and in good fellowship 
set out on life's pilgrimage together. These are 
changes far sadder to contemplate than the droop- 
ing form, the bowed shoulders, the fading vision 
and well may we deprecate, with the writer of the 
following, these evidences of the advance of time, 
the triumph of pride, selfishness, and coldness, the 
many baser passions generated too often by the 
lapse of years and superior success : 

" Touch us, O Time ! with light hand as you pass, 
Teach us to think it a loving caress ; 
Tread on our hearts, too, with reverent care, 
Crush not the flowers of life blooming there ; 
Furrow our foreheads with care if you will, 
But let youth linger within our hearts still. 

" 'Mid our dark tresses are fibres of gray — 
Silent reminders of life's fleeting day ; 
And when we turn to the shadowy past, 
On its bright altars lay ashes and dust ; 
All its fair idols are marked with decay, 
All its sweet pictures are faded away. 



The Grave as a Home. 41 

" Sadly we look for the friends of the past — 
They of strong heart and the beautiful trust ; 
Some we find sleeping beneath sculptured stone, 
Some toiling wearily onward alone ; 
Some through ambition grown heartless and cold, 
But one and all, save the dead, growing old. 

" Oft we grow weary of watching in vain. 
O'er hopes that always but shadows remain ; 
Weary of counting the joys that have died. 
Weary of laying bright visions aside ; 
Weary of taking but dross for pure gold. 
Weary, so weary, of hearts growing old. 

" Chase from us. Time, all our shadowy fears. 
Lift from our lives the burden of years ; 
Shadow our foreheads and sprinkle our hair. 
But, oh, shield our hearts from the furrows of care ! 
Let not the heart grow selfish or cold, 
And we shall no longer fear to grow old." 

Again we quote : 

" All that nature has prescribed must be good; and 
as Death is natural to us, it is absurdity to fear it. 
Fear loses its purpose when we are sure it cannot 
preserve us, and we should draw resolution to meet 
it from the impossibility to escape it." 

And yet, as has well been declared, " Life is a 
great and glorious gift" — great and glorious to 
him who appreciates and makes use of its oppor- 



42 Rockland Cemetery. 

tunities aright ; but alas ! how very few early com- 
prehend the vital truths comprised in the eloquent 
words below, that 

" The mere lapse of years is not life. To eat and 
drink and sleep; to be exposed to darkness and the 
light; to pace round in the mill of habit, and turn the 
wheel of wealth; to make reason our doorkeeper and 
turn thought into an implement of trade — this is not 
life. In all this but a poor fraction of the conscious- 
ness of humanity is awakened, and the sanctities still 
slumber which make it most worth while to live. 
Knowledge, truth, love, beauty, goodness, faith, alone 
can give vitality to the mechanism of existence. The 
laugh of mirth which vibrates through the heart; the 
tears which freshen the dry waste within; the music 
that brings childhood back; the prayer that calls the 
future near; the doubt that makes us meditate; the 
death tnat startles us with mystery; the hardship that 
forces us to struggle; the anxiety that ends in trust — 
are the true nourishment of our natural being." 

" Woods have their blossoms which we ne'er behold, 
And skies their worlds whose light is never shown, 
Ocean its treasures of unnoted gold, 

And earth her heroes that are all unknown. 

" You meet them as you pass, and heed them not ; 
You may not know what hosts before them fell ; 
You may not count the battles they have fought — 
The wreaths that crown them are invisible. 



The Grave as a Home. 43 

Yet they have fought and conquered ; they have bent 
Night after night beside the couch of pain, 

They have confronted scorn and death, and lent 
Their blood to make the stricken whole again. 

They have been pilgrims to that desert shrine 
Which Sorrow rears in the bleak realm, Despair ; 

Oft have they struggled in that gloomy mine 
Where only dust is made the toiler's share. 

They have beheld their sweetest hopes decay ; 

Oft have they seen their brightest dreams depart ; 
Have seen their golden idols turned to clay. 

And many bear within a broken heart. 

Their veiled and mighty scars they ever bear — 
Those scars that lie deep burned into the soul, 

Won where the flaming eyes of vengeance glare. 
And the tumultuous fires of passion roll. 

They have been victors ! they have conquered fields 
Earth's dreaded Hannibals could never win ; 

They have struck down the sword Ambition wields. 
And trampled Lust, and chained the hands of Sin. 

They have won captives ! their sweet tones have brought 

The erring back to virtue's flowery path ; 
Their own and others' hearts submission taught 

To God's high will, and smoothed the brow of wrath. 

They drink the dregs of trembling ; but their moans 
And anguished wails they stifle in the breast ; 

They say there is an Ear that hears their groans, 
And in His house the weary will find rest. 



44 Rockland Cemetery. 

" Want, grief, the scorn of men on them descend- 
They only say it is His righteous will : 
With chastening spirits to that will they bend, 
Believing, striving, hoping, loving stilL 

" Oh ! there are daily martyrdoms that we 

Heed not — the sufferers are to us unknown, 
But angels from the walls of Eden see 

How glorious are the laurels they have won." 



THE SEA AS A PLACE OF SEPULCHRE. 



Perhaps the most unwelcome vision that many 
travellers abroad are compelled to contemplate is 
a possible " burial at sea," a consignment to that 
grave that has no depth, or locality, or monument; 
the restless, tossing, moaning sea, which, however 
we may reason upon it, would seem destined to 
rock uneasily forever the sleeper always sadly and 
reluctantly surrendered to its keeping. 

The cry of the human heart ever is to be spared 
from this drear fate— a fate deprecated in infinite 
forms by those who have reflected upon it, for 

" Who could to those depths consign 
Her flower, her hope ?" 

The best that man can do under such circum- 
stances is to submit ; to remember with the same 
gifted writer in the sequel to the question, that 



48 Rockland Cemetery. 

" Thou art with him there, 

Pledge of the untired arm, 

And eye that cannot sleep : 
The eye that watches o'er old ocean's dead, 

Each in his narrow cave, 
Safely as if the green turf wrapp'd his head, 

Fast by his father's grave." 

And still thinking of the sea, we remember the 
story of what the old Norsemen did : that the dear- 
est and highest tribute they could pay to their 
dead kings and heroes was to place the inanimate 
form on the deck of his favorite war-ship, sur- 
rounded by all the spoils of war, the jewels and 
weapons that in his lifetime were most precious 
to the departed, and so begirt, and the ship com- 
mitted to the fierce winds out on the tossing sea, 
the whole were at last consigned to the flames and 
the waves combined— a grand funeral pageant and 
sacrifice to the destructive forces, of which the 
great dead had in his vocation been a part. 

We contemplate all this, but we feel that there 
could have been no tenderness in such a disposi- 
tion of the dead. There was stern admiration 
indeed, a precious offering to the sea, to the god 
of battles, and all else that to the gentle and loving 
of a more enlightened and humane age could only 
be terrible and revolting to contemplate ; but to 



The Sea as a Sepulchre. 



49 



such a grave there could be no loving or regretful 
pilgrimage, httle to keep alive in the human heart 
that yearning love and sorrow for the dead which, 
after all, is the richest and most precious tribute 
the living can pay to those whose loving voices 
are stilled, and whose affectionate glances are shut 
out from us forever. 

The perpetual moaning of the sea would seem 
indeed to be a continuous requiem for the myriads 
of the loved and lost for which it has constituted 
itself one vast tomb, and to thousands who listen 
to the " sad sea waves" they have no other voice ; 
for, as if lamenting for its own sake the part it 
has taken in the bereavement of millions, it never 
needs an interpreter for any of those who thought- 
fully stand upon its shores. A tomb for " multi- 
tudes no man can number" who have gone down 
to its sunless depths in all their beauty and glad- 
ness and strength, a grave for treasures such as in 
value earth knows not to-day, let those who have 
been called upon to surrender loved ones to its 
unquiet keeping find a fitting monody for their 
woes in the following beautiful apostrophe to its 
mournful voices, its ceaseless plaints : 



50 Rockland Cemetery. 

" Mourn on, O solitary sea ! 

I love to hear thy moan, 
The world's lament, attuned to melody, 
In thy undying tone ; 
Lo ! on the yielding sand I lie alone, 

And the white cliffs around me draw their screen. 
And part me from the world. Let me disown 
For one short hour its pleasures and its spleen. 
And, wrapt in dreamy thought, some peaceful moments glean. 

" No voice of any living thing is near. 
Save the wild sea-bird's wail. 
That seems the cry of sorrow deep and drear, 
That nothing can avail ; 
Now in the air with broad white wing they sail, 

And now descending dot the tawny sand, 
Now rest upon the waves ; yet still their wail. 
Of bitter sorrow floats towards the land, 
Like grief which change of scene is powerless to command. 

" The sea approaches, with its weary heart, 
Moaning unquietly ; 
An earnest grief, too tranquil to depart, 
Speaks in that troubled sigh : 
Yet its glad waves seem dancing merrily, 

For hope from them conceals the warning tone; 
Gayly they rush towards the shore — to die, 

All their bright spray upon the bare sand thrown, 
While still around them wails the sad and ceaseless tone. 

" And thus it is in life, and in the breast 
Gay sparkling hopes arise, 



The Sea as a Sepulchre. 51 

Each one in turn just shows its gleaming crest, 
Then falls away and dies. 
On life's bare sands each cherished vision lies, 

Numbered with those that will return no more ; 
There, early love — youth's dearly cherished ties — 
Bright dreams of fame, lie perished on the shore, 
"While the worn heart laments what grief can ne'er restore. 

" Yet still the broken waves, retiring, strive 
Again their crests to rear. 
Seeking in sparkling beauty to revive 
As in their first career : 
They strive in vain — their lustre, bright and clear. 

Forsakes them now, with earth all dim and stained ; 
And thus the heart would raise its visions dear, 

And shape them new from fragments that remained. 

But finds their brightness gone, by earth's cold touch profaned. 

" Long have I lingered here : the evening fair 
In robe of mist draws nigh. 
The sinking sea sighs forth its sad despair 
More and more distantly : 
Hushed is the sea-bird's melancholy cry, 

For night approaches with the step of age, 
When youth's sharp griefs are softened to a sigh, 
And the dim eye afar beholds the page 
That holds the record sad of sorrow's former rage. 

" And Nature answers my complaining woe 
With her own quiet lore ; 
Bids me observe the mist ascending slow 
From the deserted shore : 



52 Rockland Cemetery. 

And learn that, scattered and defiled no more, 
The fallen waves are wafted to the skies ; 

That thus the hopes. I bitterly deplore, 

Though fast they fall before my aching eyes, 

Fall but in tears on earth, to heaven unstained to rise. 



VI. 



THE DEAD WHOSE GRAVES ARE 
SHRINES FOR THE RACE. 



The most touching and earnest tributes of the 
heart are seldom rendered to the mightiest of the 
race. The pilgrim to Perc-la-Chaisc indulges few 
or no sentiments of regretful tenderness as he 
stands before this or that stately cenotaph erected 
over the remains and to signalize the deeds of 
men whose triumphs in war or statesmanship have 
reverberated around the world. But the visitor, 
lingering at the unpretentious tablet which marks 
the last resting-place of those unfortunates, Abe- 
lard and Heloise, recalls with feelings of pity the 
story of their lives, their loves, and their misfor- 
tunes, an involuntary tribute to the poor dust 
which for centuries has been a shrine for the sym- 
pathizing and the true of every land. 

Then for the graves of the possibly selfish and 
unloved in the corner of some nesflccted and dark 



$6 Rockland Cemetery. 

churchyard, like that the spirit of " Christmas to 
Come" revealed to Ebenezer Scrooge as possibly 
his own ! Can any one contemplate such a spot 
and such a destiny — too often a real experience — 
without a shudder? and, more and more by such 
contrast, does it not show where the loved and 
honored should rest — where the sunlight falls and 
the shadows dance, where legendary lore tells us 
the fairies swing in the flower-bells and the butter- 
flies flit by on gilded wings, where the summer 
breeze comes laden with the perfume of flowers, 
and young men and maidens walk fearlessly and 
in gladness among the loveliest and most soothing 
scenes of Nature ? . 

" In the cold ground ?" said the child. " No," replied 
the girl, " in the warm ground, where the roots of the 
flowers spring, and the green grass weaves a roof over 
the tired sleeper reposing in peace below ; in the 
warm ground, warmed by the sun and haunted by the 
robin and thrush, where the summer wind sighs a 
requiem, and summer showers give tears for the loved 
and lost." 

We know what Westminster Abbey, Holyrood 
Abbey, and similar places all over the world pre- 
sent as gathering places of the illustrious dead ; 
but all the multitudes congregated in these and 



Shrines for the Race. 57 

other celebrated receptacles of the kind, along 
with the sculptured memorials inseparable from 
them, do no more to hallow these places, not any 
more, combined, make them marked spots in the 
world's thoughts, than has been done b)^ such an 
one as Shakespeare for Avon, by Burns for Ayr, 
or by the author of the " Elegy in a Country 
Churchyard " for his old home. Knowing this, 
reflecting upon it, even the most covetous of fame, 
of posthumous renown for themselves or friends, 
may not envy those who have already achieved a 
resting-place and a name in the great mausoleums 
dedicated to the famous in the world's history. 
It is the loved dead, singly, oftentimes, who make 
memorable and appear to hallow whatever locality 
gives them a tomb ; and remembering this, such a 
reflection should console even the most ambitious 
of the world's toilers up the " steep of Fame," or 
the friends and admirers who with eager looks 
watch their upward progress. 

" And those who come because they loved 

The mouldering frame that lies below. 
Shall find their anguish half removed 

While that sweet spot shall soothe their v?oe. 
The notes of happy birds alone 

Shall there disturb the silent air, 
And when the cheerful sun goes down, 

His beams shall linger longest there." 



5$ Rockland Cemetery. 

Were it not that consolation comes to us in 
numberless forms to reconcile us to the great and 
final change which awaits all, to atone to us in 
some degree for the parting with those most dear 
to us, we might sit down in blank despair of any 
compensation to be had. But when nearly the 
entire human race are found confiding, in some 
form, in the promise given or implied of life to 
come, in the hope and expectation of a happier 
hereafter, involuntarily perhaps, at the approach 
of disease, or danger, or death, the thought of 
this far-reaching sentiment dominates everything 
else. In this view, men who it is supposed are 
most devoted to the fierce rivalries or gayeties 
around them, least impressed, at a distance from 
the event, with the impending and great change, 
suddenly, when it is upon them, seem reconciled, 
both for themselves and friends, to the approach- 
ing inevitable, preparing for it with a calmness or 
resignation which seems all but phenomenal to the 
chance observer of the scene. 

The cases are infinite in number where men of 
the largest material wealth and prosperity — men 
who along with this have shown themselves fairly 
devotees to public honors or other controlling 
objects — when suddenly arrested in such career 



Shrines for the Race. 59 

have laid down perhaps with a smile all this, as if 
merely called to a single night's repose. 

It is true that, when apparently in no immediate 
danger of the last summons, most men give little 
or no consideration to its sudden possibihty. But 
the fact that in so many cases the final inevitable 
is readily and apparently with willingness accept- 
ed, appears to show that long before the trial 
comes, men almost as quietly prepare for it. 

" Ah, David, David ! this it is that makes it so 
hard for a man to die !" was the remark of Dr. 
Samuel Johnson to his friend Garrick on being 
late in life shown over the fine London mansion of 
the latter, with its costly pictures and statuary. 
Yet it does not appear that the great actor had 
half the fear of death that beset the " great moral- 
ist" and philosopher, who had but httle of the 
world's goods to leave behind, and who perhaps, 
cynically or enviously, seized the occasion alluded 
to to rebuke his old friend's pride of success. 

In the hour of trial, as already intimated, men 
find sources of consolation they had scarcely 
thought of turning to when all was bright and 
pleasant ; and more especially do the gentler sex. 
One of these consoling reflections is so beautifully 
shown in the following by a distinguished poetess, 
applied in the case of a loved child, that it may 



6o Rockland Cemetery. 

well commend itself to myriads in like manner be- 
reaved, and who from the same high source may 
find consolation : 

" When on my ear your loss was knelled, 

And tender sympathy upburst, 
A little spring from memory swelled, 

Which once had soothed my bitter thirst ; 
And I was fain to bear to you 

A portion of its mild relief, 
That it might be as healing dew 

To steal some fever from your grief. 

" After our child's untroubled breath 

Up to the Father took its way, 
And on our home the shade of death 

Like a long twilight haunting lay ; 
And friends came roimd with us to weep 

Her little spirit's swift remove, 
This story of the Alpine sheep 

Was told to us by one we love : 



" They in the valley's sheltering care 

Soon crop the meadow's tender prime, 
And when the sod growrs brown and bare 

The shepherd strives to make them climb 
To airy shelves of pasture green, 

That hang along the mountain side. 
Where grass and flowers together lean. 

And down through mists the sunbeams slide. 



Shrines for the Race. 6i 

' But nought can tempt the timid things 

That steep and rugged path to try, 
Though sweet the shepherd calls and sings, 

And seared below the pastures lie ; 
Till in his arms their lambs he takes, 

Along the dizzy verge to go : 
Then, heedless of the rifts and breaks, 

They follow on o'er rock and snow. 

" And in these pastures lifted fair. 

More dewy soft than lowland mead. 
The shepherd drops his tender care, 

And sheep and lambs together feed. 
This parable by nature breathed, 

Blew on me as the south wind free 
O'er frozen brooks, that float unsheathed, 

From icy thraldom to the sea. 

" A blissful vision through the night 

Would all my happy senses sway, 
Of the good Shepherd on the height, 

Or climbing up the stony way. 
Holding our little lamb asleep. 

While, like the burthen of the sea. 
Sounded that voice along the deep. 

Saying, ' Arise and follow me ! ' " 

The resignation to the decrees of the inevitable, 
so beautifully portrayed in the foregoing, comes 
to numbers ; but so long as the race is subject to 
the deep love and grief and passionate regret that 
come to thousands, there will yet be others whose 



62 Rockland Cemetery, 

over-burdened hearts cannot find any relief this 
side their final homes. The hearts of all such 
will sadly and earnestly respond to the expression 
of tenderness and anguish^ conveyed in the follow- 
ing beautiful lines: 

" How can we live and bear to miss 

Out of our lives this life most rare? 
Tender, so tender ! an angel's kiss 

Hallowed it daily unaware. 
Gracious as sunshine, sweet as dew 

Shut in a lily's golden core, 
Fragrant with goodness through and through, 

Pure as the spikenard Mary bore, 
Holy as twilight, soft as dawn, 
She is gone." 



VII. 



THE GRAVES OF HEROES. 



The graves of heroes — of heroes of the sword, 
of those to whom the tribute of a costly burial 
is conceded because they were such — seem not 
alwa3-s desirable places ; and such an one, as 
marked amongst such, is the grave of that re- 
nowned lieutenant of the first Napoleon, Marshal 
Kleber. In the centre of a great square in Stras- 
burg, the pavement of flinty boulders reaching 
close up to the spot on either side, not a blade of 
grass even to soften the aspect of the place, the 
remains of the great military leader are placed, 
his effigy on a pedestal above. But anything 
more hard and desolate, more lone than this grave 
around which the city's traffic, even to the mar- 
ket-wagons, surges and rattles to and fro, shaking 
with the stony jar the dust which after a stormy 
career amidst the noise of battles one would think 



66 Rockland Cemetery. 

should fain have rest, can hardl}'' be imagined. And 
however, again and again, the thought may force 
itself that the distinguished dead is forever past 
all consciousness of his surroundings, is insensible 
to all annoyances, the associations of ideas in the 
minds of the living will continue, and the fitness 
of the place as a spot for final repose be involun- 
tarily questioned by the thoughtful looker-on. 

And we may mention in this connection the not 
less forlorn destiny, in some aspects of it, reached 
by another of the great Napoleon's lieutenants, 
General Dessaix, Sacrificed under the eye of his 
ambitious master in the great game for empire be- 
gun upon the plains of Italy, no ordinary tomb or 
place of sepulchre could be allowed to mark the 
signal regard felt for him; and so an ancient and 
massive Greek sarcophagus, despoiled of the ashes 
of its^ first tenant, was chosen by Napoleon as the 
receptacle of the body of the distinguished dead, 
and the very Alps even were made to constitute a 
part of his monument, by the transportation of the 
huge stone coffin and its occupant to a high eleva- 
tion on the mountains, at cost and labor almost 
infinite. 

Again, monuments which are tombs for this 
class of the world's celebrated ones are not un- 
common upon great battle-fields, places where 



The Graves of Heroes. 6^ 

Glory crowns the unconscious dead, those locali- 
ties perhaps made desolate by the red pathway 
of the desti"oying hosts through fields and hamlets, 
as the dwelling-places of the peaceful inhabitants 
have gone down before artillery or the flames 
kindled by the incendiary torches of contending 
armies. There, men who fell in a death-struggle 
with each other rest peacefully enough side by 
side at last ; but whilst places thus reddened by 
human gore are in many cases hallowed as the 
birth-places of Liberty, as the sacrificial altars 
to Human Rights, these are, after all, inevitably 
fraught with saddening memories, and regrets that 
earth could from any cause demand so terrible a 
sacrifice. 

And whilst it is a blessed thing that Nature 
kindly strives to hide with grass and flowers the 
many dreadful marks of the fierce struggle ; while 
Time and the summer rains combine to level the 
neglected and lonely hillocks that mark where the 
waves of battle surged to and fro as victory hung 
in the balance — the changes of centuries even fail 
to obliterate the harrowing and sorrowful remem- 
brance of the spot so stamped with the evil pas- 
sions of men : and contemplating such, we turn to 
the story of the " Country Church3-ard," as told 
by the poet of the peaceful English hamlet, with a 



68 Rockland Cemetery. 

feeling of relief, an assurance that all is not made 
the prey of human passions and fierce ambition, 
that words may not express. 

" The tombs of princes, they are found 

Amidst cathedral halls, 
With gold and marble glist'ning round 

The high and trophied walls : 
The crown and sceptre imaged fair, 
Proclaiming who sleeps honored there. 

" They of the red hand whose fame 
Hath filled the wondering world — 

They, too, sepulchral honors claim, 
And sleep with banners furled ; 

A glorious and tnumphant band — 

Among the great ones of the land. 

" And it is well — an empire's lord 

Should fill a gorgeous grave ; 
They of the senate and the swor 

Let them due honors have : 
Thrice holy, if a nation's love 
Have ranked them with the just above. 

" But where are they, the nameless Dead, 

Who, since the birth of Time, 
Their life-blood generously have shed 

In Freedom's cause sublime ? 
Aye, where are they ? no trophy waves 
Above their unrecorded graves. 



The Graves of Heroes. 69 

" And where your martyrs' radiant truth 

Who on the flaming pyre, 
In hoary age and blooming youth, 

Have stood baptized in fire? 
Their death songs have gone up to heaven — 
Where are their sacred ashes driven ? 

** Ask we the winds — the rushing blast 

Hath borne them far and wide ; 
Some in the forest's depths are cast, 

Some on the green hill's side ; 
Oh ! that meet fruits might crown such seed, 
That were a harvest rich indeed. 

" Your tombs, ye wanderers, who repose 
'Neath Afric's sunny sky. 
Rejoicing even in life's drear close 

For Science' sake to die — 
Say, who to grace your exil'd dust, 
Hath reared funereal urn or bust ? 

" Ye sleep amid the desert's calm — 

Even where you gasping fell. 
Beneath the obeliskal palm, 

Or nigh the brackish well : 
And but the camel's echoing tread 
Furrows the light sand o'er your head. 

" I gazed upon a field of death, 

Where kingdoms had been won. 
What saw I ? — the green sod beneath — 

Above, the golden sun ; 
While one proud chieftain bore away 
The laurels of that blood-red day. 



70 Rockland Cemetery. 

" Rear, rear the cenotaph; but no — • 
Twice better thus to rest 
Like gems whose hidden glories glow 
Deep, deep in nature's breast." 



VIII. 



THE GRAVES OF THE LOWLY IN SPIRIT. 



It appears to be in the hearts of many of those 
most favored of Fortune, of many who are distin- 
guished, notwithstanding their elevation, for the 
quiet graces which mark Uves that have been 
ornaments to the race — it appears to be the desire 
of many such, to be buried unostentatiously; to 
have no more assumed for them on being con- 
signed to the last narrow house than has been 
shown in the whole of a life-long career. 

In the annals of the Empire of India is given 
the case of a young girl, the daughter of the Em- 
peror Shah Jehan, which may serve as an illustra- 
tion of humility so lovely and so surprising, under 
all the circumstances, as to cause us to recall the 
story of it here. 

Born and reared in one of the most brilliant and 



74 Rockland Cemetery. 

mighty courts of the world, surrounded with a 
dazzling splendor such as even at the present day, 
in the same country, almost confounds the visitor 
from other lands, her request for a humble grave, 
a quiet and unpretentious resting-place, is one of 
the most remarkable and affecting incidents of the 
kind on record. 

" Let no rich canopy rise over my grave. The 
grass is the best covering for the poor in spirit, the 
humble, the ephemeral Jehanara, the disciple of the 
holy men of Cheest, the daughter of the Emperor 
Shah Jehan." 

What an example and a lesson of humility to 
thousands, even of Christian countries, where the 
arrogance of life is not laid down even at the gates 
of death ! 

Resembling this in one respect is the case of one 
of the most famous of the followers of Columbus, 
the renowned flower of Spanish chivalry, Ojeda. 
Prominent above nearly all his compeers in arms 
and adventures for his knightly accomplishments, 
his graces as a courtier, and withal for his pride, 
he, after assuming the vocation and garb of a monk, 
and in deep repentance and humility of heart for 
what he considered a past frivolous life, caused 



The Lowly in Stirit. 75 

his remains to be interred in the entrance of a 
monastery in Santo Domingo, "that every one 
who entered might tread upon his grave " ! How 
humble and broken must have been that spirit ; 
how cast down that arrogance which could de- 
sire a burial like that ; and what a lesson to 
haughty humanity wrapped up in and devoted to 
earthly ambition ! 

" We might have been ! these are out common words, 
And yet they make the sum of life's bewailing : 
They are the echo of those finer chords, 
Whose music life deplores when unavailing. 
We might have been 1 

" We might have been so happy ! says the child 
Pent in the weary school-room during summer. 
Where the green rushes 'mid the marshes wild, 
And rosy fruits, attend the radiant comer. 
We might have been ! 

'■ It is the thought that darkens on our youth, 

When first experience — sad experience — teaches 
What fallacies we have believed for truth, 
And what few truths endeavor ever reaches. 
We might have been ! 

" Alas ! how different from what we are, 

Had we but known the bitter path before us ; 
But feelings, hopes, and fancies left afar. 

What in the wide, blank world can e'er restore us ? 
We might have been ! 



^6 Rockland Cemetery. 

"It is the motto of all human things, 

The end of all that wait on mortal seeking ; 
The weary weight upon Hope's flagging wings, 
It is the cry of the worn heart while breaking. 
We might have been ! 



Henceforth how much of the full heart must be 
A sealed book, at whose contents we tremble ? 

A still voice utters 'midst our misery 

The worst to hear — because it must dissemble — 
We might have been ! 

Life is made up in miserable hours ; 

And all of which we craved a brief possession. 
For which we wasted wishes, hopes, and powers, 

Comes with some fatal drawback on the blessing. 
We might have been ! 

The future never renders to the past 
The young beliefs intrusted to its keeping ; 

Inscribe one sentence — life's first truth and last — 
On the pale marble where our dust is sleeping — 
We might have been ! " 



IX. 

INFLUENCE OF THE LOVED DEAD 
UPON THE LIVING. 



There is probably no feeling more deeply im- 
planted in the universal human heart than a con- 
viction more or less strong that the spirits of the 
loved dead are at times with us, and to some ex- 
tent are cognizant of the sorrow and regard which 
clings to and cherishes their memory. And when 
we see them in dreams, in waking visions, in 
reveries, how natural that we should follow them 
to that gateway where they seemed to make their 
exit — how natural that we should visit again and 
again the dust which once enshrined all most 
valued on earth ! 

And although in the light of human reason, in 
the experience of all, no friend comes back to re- 
new the loving intercourse which was as light to 



So Rockland Cemetery. 

our paths, although to all the passionate invoca- 
tions prompted by grief no dear voice responds, 
we are willing to accept — if it must be so — the 
charge against us of superstition, of weakness, of 
folly even, rather than give up the shadow, pos- 
sibly, of the hope we cherish, the almost belief that 
the loved dead are, in some sense, with us again. 

And in the brief consideration of this matter we 
must confess to no familiarity whatever with the 
" Spiritualism" of the times. It was the remark 
of a great writer that " all men are more super- 
stitious than they are willing to acknowledge even 
to themselves," he himself being no exception to 
the truth avowed. But how barren w^ould appear 
the outlook and surroundings to all thoughtful 
minds, to all loving hearts, if ruled down to the 
hard, material world around ! how would the heart 
and mind shrink from the coutemplation of sub- 
stance and matter, merely and only as such, as we 
understand the meaning in the ordinary accepta- 
tion of those terms ! 

The voice of the wind, the perfume of flowers, 
the tones of music, a thousand subtle influences 
and memories " striking the electric chain where- 
with we are darkly bound," connect us with the 
dead, even of long years gone by. And- when 
they come to us in dreams, with a power and 



Influence of the Loved Dead. 8i 

vividness, a brightness which no material portrait- 
ure of earth could ever equal, we listen to their 
kindly voices and press their hands, shall we fall 
back on poor human nature, however vaunted in 
its powers in dealing with other things, and repel 
these possiblv loving visitants to us from the world 
unseen ? 

Indeed, illustrated by myriad cases of human 
experience, what do we really know, at last, of the 
actual nearness or remoteness of that boundless 
universe peopled with the unnumbered millions 
who have gone before ? What means have the 
living of judging aright of the' glorious visions, the 
startling perceptions of the eager spirit leaving its 
wrecked mansion here, and, half way entered on 
that other sphere of existence, perhaps called back 
for a few brief moments to tell the story of angelic 
beings who have beckoned to him from the other 
shore, before taking leave of us in the flesh for- 
ever ? 

Of one of these happy departures, the last hours 
of one of those almost angelic beings who are per- 
mitted for a time to brighten with their loving 
presence the sphere in which they move, we have 
the blessed testimony, from the tearful listeners by 
her bedside, that 



82 Rockland Cemetery. 

" Words were uttered then that will be tears of 
gratitude in the memory of all who heard them — 
gratitude to God for His grace and love to her in life 
and death, and for that opening vision of the light 
and glory of heaven which expelled all the darkness 
of the valley of the shadow of death." 

We reflect upon all this, and only to lose our- 
selves in the maze where poor human reason 
strives to throw some light upon our dim path- 
Avay ; but shall we be content to coldly endeavor 
to assure oui-selves that all this must be a mere 
figment of the brain, the fruit of our own imagin- 
ings ? Shall we bow once more to the dust and 
turmoil of existence here, stolidly turning our 
backs upon the loved ones who may possibly 
hover about our steps to " minister" to us for 
good? 

And if these are the sentiments of the more 
thoughtful and loving ever3'where, what more 
natural and fitting than the endeavor to associate 
ourselves with them, and with the memories which 
have endeared them to us in life ? What more 
dear than for us to cherish all that is left of them 
here below? In this regard the haunting and 
eager hope becomes to the bereaved a veritable 
consciousness, and finds a voice to which myriads 
can respond : 



Influence of the Loved Dead. 83 

" Thou art not with me — yet thou art : 
I feel thy presence round me here ; 

Low tones of joy are in my heart, 
I know thy spirit hovers near ! 

Oh, may it ever with me dwell, 

And guard me by its holy spell !" 

The feeling of loving and tender association is 
in all this awakened and intensified. 

" To live in human hearts we leave behind 
Is not to die !" 

Again, men are made to reflect that life is not 
all traffic, is not all a struggle for the material re- 
wards of the world. Even fierce Ambition is chas- 
tened, and sordid Greed checked and subdued in 
presence of the influences indicated, until some- 
thing approaching a right consciousness is reached, 
and men concede something to the memory and 
to the homes of the dead, whilst constrained to 
remember there is another world than this: 

" They have not perished — no ! 

Kind words, remembered voices, once so sweet ; 
Smiles radiant long ago ; 

And features, the great soul's apparent seat — 
All shall come back : each tie 

Of pure affection shall be knit again." 

And however little, myriads ma}- think in their 
daily fives and hurry of the demands upon them of 



84 Rockland Cemetery. 

another existence, no one, even the most thought- 
less or careless, can hear the passing knell or see 
the cortege which reverently takes its way to the 
homes of the dead without conceding a moment's 
reflection to his own possibilities in that myste- 
rious future — a future which, however he would 
ignore, he may not shun ; whilst to others more 
disposed to reflection, it promises a reunion so 
cherished as to be an all-controlling and abiding 
sentiment. 

And this feeling, casually induced, follows him 
to his home as evening draws nigh, and his belated 
footsteps are lighted by the magnificent gems that 
stud the wondrous and infinite space above. In 
all this he may be made to reflect, and to hope 
with another and gifted writer, that there is in- 
deed a home other than the one he struggles so 
hard for here — a home where he may meet again 
the loved ones who have gone before. 



" If yon bright stars which gem the night 

Be each a blissful dwelling sphere, 
Where kindred spirits reunite 

Whom death has torn asunder liere — 
How sweet it were at once to die, 

To leave this blighted orb afar, 
Mix soul with soul to cleave the sky, 

And soar awav from star to star. 



Influence of the Loved Dead. 85 

" But ah ! how dark, how drear, how lone, 

Would seem the brightest world of bliss, 
If wandering through each radiant one 

We failed to find the loved of this ! 
If there no more the ties should twine 

Which death's cold hand alone can sever, 
Ah ! then those stars in mockery shine, 

More hateful as they shine forever. 

" It cannot be ! Each hope, each fear 

That lights the eye or clouds the brow. 
Proclaims there is a happier sphere 

Than this bleak world which holds us now ! 
There is a Voice which sorrow hears. 

When heaviest weighs life's galling chain ; 
'Tis Heaven that whispers, " Dry thy tears — 

The pure in heart shall meet again !" 



X. 

CREMATION" REVOLTING TO 
HUMANITY. 



If " burials at sea" are a shock and a natural 
horror to humanity, and if men dishke, instinc- 
tively, soHtude in choosing a last resting-place, 
much more, as a general thing, have they an an- 
tipathy, we need hardly more than suggest, to 
the present endeavor to revive the practice of cer- 
tain of the ancients — the practice of " cremation," 
the reducing to ashes by the ordeal of fire the 
bodies of the recent dead. 

To the refined and sensitive mind, the last calm 
expression on the face of the dead, as surrounded 
by flowers they are reverently left undisturbed to 
their long sleep, is one of the dearest and most 
cherished remembrances, however sad, which goes 



90 Rockland Cemetery. 

along with the passing years ; something that draws 
us times numberless to look regretfully and lov- 
ingly upon the grassy mounds or the marble which 
shelters them, and there endeavor to recall the 
features so dear to us in life. 

But the white-hot crucible, the shrinking form 
of humanity passing away in smoke and flames, 
can hardly be otherwise than revolting and dread- 
ful, even to the least sensitive, as a general thing, 
and with the conviction that the very form of the 
loved one is obliterated from earth, has vanished 
forever from all the scenes with which life and 
affection had associated it, there must come a 
painful feeling, an aching void such as nothing on 
earth can avail to make good. 

To the abused ashes of the dead thus treated, 
no opportunity is presented for loving tributes ; 
no pathos, no poetry is awakened in the sorrowing 
heart as when they contemplate the loved form 
carefully and tearfully borne to its last resting- 
place. How strongly all this comes home to the 
heart when we meet with such a tribute as this 
from the bereaved mother to her dead child ! — 

" Let in the light of the fair sun 
And leave me here alone ; 
This hour with thee must be the last, 
My dear, unspotted one. 



"Cremation" Revolting. 91 

Thy bier waits in the silent street, 

And voiceless men are there ; 
While in sad, solemn intervals 

The bell strikes on the air. 

Through the bare trees the autumn wind 

With rustling song complains 
To the deep vales, and echoing hills. 

In sad funereal strains. 

And this is death — these heavy eyes, 

This eloquent, sweet face. 
Where beauty, throned in innocence, 

Sat with celestial grace. 

These limbs, whose chiselled marble lines 

But shame the sculptor's skill, 
In more than mortal slumber wrapt, 

Unconscious, cold, and still. 

Seal up the fountains of mine eyes ; 

This is no place for tears : 
These are but painted images. 

That mock my hopes and fears. 

Backward, this little hand in mine, 

Feeling thou still art here, 
I trace the blissful joys and cares 

That filled thy short career. 

The bright intelligence that gleamed 

From out these infant eyes 
Seems still to point with blessed beams 

The pathway to the skies. 



g2 Rockland .Cemetery. 

" But this is death ! beneath whose touch- 
Cold, unrelenting power — 
Beauty's unwithered garlands fall, 
To perish in an hour. 

" Take up the bier, and bear it hence — 
It were in vain to weep ; 
But gently and with noiseless step, 
As to the couch of sleep. 

" The measured journey to the grave 
Is dark to him who fears 
To scan the blotted memories 
Of unrepented years. 

" To us who bear this child to-day. 
No pang like this is given ; 
This door we shut upon its tomb 
Encloses it in heaven." 



XL 



THE ASSURANCE OF IMMUNITY FOR 
THE DEAD. 



We have considered, somewhat at length, the 
various characteristics which mark the last resting- 
places of the dead of the woi"ld at large, and, with 
the fact evident that the great majority of the ad- 
vanced and cultivated instinctively seek out for 
themselves or friends the most beautiful locations 
at command in which to make a last home, we 
have next to consider some of the most desirable 
or imperative conditions which should character- 
ize the selection of such locality, conditions which 
should make it sought for a purpose so sacred and 
intended to be so enduring. 

In a country like ours, where, perhaps more 
than anywhere else on earth, change, alteration, 
improvement, progress, are the distinguishing feat- 



96 Rockland Cemetery. 

ures of the times, the first thing to be insisted upon 
in seeking a burial-place for our kindred and our- 
selves is that it shall never be disturbed. And the 
importance of this consideration need hardly be 
more than adverted to, since it is within the obser- 
vation and experience of all that in the fierce 
march of material progress everything has had, 
upon occasion, to give way ; that with more than 
Vandal disregard of the sacred obligation of the 
living to disturb not or desecrate the resting-places 
of the dead, yet the dust of a preceding generation 
even has been ruthlessly scattered by the succeed- 
ing one, because Mammon, or convenience, so de- 
creed it. 

And if we reflect for a moment as to zvJio these 
are so ruthlessly torn from their presumed last 
resting-places, the conviction at once comes home 
to us that they were the once idolized infant, laid 
away, surrounded with rosebuds and lilies, amidst 
the tearful and heart-breaking anguish of the 
young mother — grief which made the world dark 
to both parents afterwards for years. We must 
reflect that youth and beauty — the young girl with 
fiower-enwreathed coffin, and the young man in 
his strength, accompanied by the poignant regret 
of his youthful companions — were of those dragged 



Immunity for the Dead. 97 

forth again because earth denied them a perma- 
nent resting-place. Age and talent and worth, 
qualities which made the esteemed dead loved and 
regarded through long lives of usefulness, have 
found no more consideration than the malefactor 
spurned out of the world by an outraged commu- 
nity ; and knowing all this, seeing much too often 
that the living, under certain circumstances, will 
not protect the dead, can we see, without regret 
and indignation, the phalanx of laborers appointed 
to the sacrilegious task, again and again gathering 
to invade these places with pick and shovel, and 
not enter a protest and provide effectually against 
future possibilities in the same direction ? 

Whilst on this new continent there could have 
been no such excuse of dire necessity as, upon 
occasion, obtains in the crowded marts of the 
Old World — a region where room is too often 
wanting for the living — here, on the contrary, 
right over the graves of the once loved and re- 
garded, has the ploughshare of progress been re- 
morselessly driven, since it has been enough, in 
most cases, that a city needed the convenience of 
another business street, or a few more business 
blocks, way for a railroad, or something of as mat- 
ter-of-fact a character in a business point of view, 
to dig up and scatter to the winds the dust of 



98 Rockland Cemetery. 

those ancestors to whom they were indebted for 
all that made the spot so desecrated desirable. 

And this revolting condition of things, rightly 
considered, is too common to need specification ; 
too frequent, indeed, to at last cause much sur- 
prise. But if, as was assumed in the commence- 
ment of this little volume, it is true that the ad- 
vancement, the culture, and refinement of any 
people can be almost certainly measured by the 
regard they show for the dead and for their last 
resting-places, the condition of things we have 
above set forth, and which is patent to all, is any- 
thing but creditable to many of our communities 
and cities ; indeed, it is a slur and a disgrace upon 
civilization itself — upon those whose desire for 
pelf, whose greed has made them forget or dis- 
regard what was due the ashes of the dead. 

We say, then, that since this ruthless spirit has 
been not unfrequently manifested by some of the 
most wealthy and advanced communities around 
us, it is a first consideration to place the dead 
where physical conditions may appear to insure 
them forever against intrusion and disturbance — 
insure them, perhaps, against the utter destruction 
of these last homes. Already, men have learned 
that scarcely anywhere in the crowded city is what 
was once termed " sacred " entirely safe. 



I-NFMUNITV FOR THE DEAD. 



99 



A church site is wanted for a business mart, a 
theatre, for a livery stable even in some cases, or 
a burial-place is in the way of railroad construc- 
tion; and straightway what was supposed to be 
forever consecrated, what was once looked upon 
and resorted to as sacred, is without a scruple 
assailed by fierce Greed, the sad scene viewed 
with idle curiosity or indifference by the hundreds 
of passers-by as the bones of the dead are dug up 
and carted away, the scene viewed with sorrow 
and indignation and disgust by but the few. 

The work goes on, and a brief period sees more 
than the triumph of the barbarous hosts who in 
the olden time invaded Italy, since they did not, 
on the same site where destruction and sacrilege 
ran riot — and as if in mockery — erect an altar to 
that god Mammon at whose behest the place had 
been desecrated. 

In the presence of the last dread visitor to the 
loved household, how sacred seems the spot con- 
templated as that of final repose ! and what a 
reflection it is upon humanity itself that when a 
few years pass, with neglect and forgetfulness 
come weeds and desolation, and even contume- 
lious treatment of the dead, as already shown ! 

Fortunately this is not the case with all, or 
mankind might relapse or descend, in this regard, 



loo Rockland Cemetery. 

to the condition of the unthinking denizens of the 
fields and forests. One of those noble expressions 
of a higher sentiment that all but redeem the 
race may well be quoted here : 

" The love which survives the tomb is one of the 
noblest attributes of the soul. If it hath its woes, it 
hath likewise its delights; and when the overwhelm- 
ing burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of 
recollection; when the sudden anguish and the con- 
vulsive agony over the present ruin of all that we 
most loved is softened away into pensive meditation 
on all that it was in the days of its loveliness — who 
would root out such a sorrow from the heart ? 

" Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud 
over the bright hour of gayety, or spread a deeper 
sadness over the hour of gloom, yet who would ex- 
change it even for the song of pleasure or the burst 
of revelry ? No, there is a voice from the tomb, 
sweeter than that of song. There is a recollection 
of the dead to which we turn even from the charms 
of the living. Oh, the grave ! the grave ! It buries 
every error, covers every defect, extinguishes every 
resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none 
but fond resfrets and tender recollections." 



Immunity for the Dead. ioi 



THE TWO VILLAGES. 



Over the river, on the hill, 
Lieth a village white and still ; 
All around it the forest trees 
Shiver and whisper in the breeze ; 
Over it sailing shadows go 
Of soaring hawk and screaming crow, 
And mountain grasses, low and sweet, 
Grow in the middle of the street. 

Over the river, under the hill. 
Another village lieth still ; 
There I see, in the cloudy night. 
Twinkling stars of household light, 
Fires that gleam from the smithy's door, 
Mists that curl on the river shore ; 
And in the road no grasses grow 
For the wheels that hasten to and fro. 

In that village on the hill 

Never is sound of smithy or mill ; 

The houses are thatched with grasses and flowers ; 

Never a clock to toll the hou'rs ; 

The marble doors are always shut, 

You cannot enter in hall or hut ; 

All the villagers lie asleep ; 

Never a grain to sow or reap ; 

Never in dreams to mourn or sigh — 

Silent and idle and low they lie. 



I02 Rockland Cemetery. 

" In that village under the hill, 
When the night is starry and still, 
Many a weary soul in prayer 
Looks to the other village there, 
And, weeping and sighing, longs to go 
Up to that home from this below ; 
Longs to sleep by the forest wild. 
Whither have vanished wife and child ; 
And heareth, praying, this answer fall — 
"Patience! that village shall hold you all 



\ 
\ 



XII. 

WHERE THE DEAD ARE TO FIND A 
RESTING-PLACE. 



We have indicated that nowhere contiguous to 
the business marts of the town or city are the 
rights of the dead sure to be regarded ; indeed, 
that in numerous cases where the homes of the 
dead stand in the way of " business progress," and 
where wealth and power cannot interpose insur- 
mountable obstacles, they are unhesitatingly swept 
away. 

This being the case, the next thing to consider 
by those who have not given up all regard in the 
fierce struggle after wealth for friends departed, 
is to look about them to see where their dead can 
be laid, with the full assurance of protection 
against the unscrupulous proclivities of the times. 



io6 Rockland Cemetery. 

In this regard, it may safely be averred that 
in few places in the immediate vicinity of the 
onward march of the great city to advancement 
can the dead be considered protected from all 
interference ; so that one of the first conditions of 
immunity from disturbance is a safe remoteness 
from the rush and whirl which insists upon bear- 
ing down everything that may impede its prog- 
ress. 

In dealing, then, with the wants, in this particu- 
lar regard, of the great and growing commercial 
metropolis of the New World, we need only point 
to the fact that with but very limited exceptions 
are resting-places for the dead available anywhere 
near the city ; and that even these, if Greed and 
Progress — as hitherto — march hand in hand, may 
some time, as in past cases, be invaded, and the 
dead be ruthlessly removed to make way for the 
living. 

And even in the cases indicated, such is the 
demand at present for places of sepulchre, that 
prices for such are quite beyond the reach of 
thousands who deeply feel the desire and obliga- 
tiod to place their dead where the feeling of 
security cannot be shaken, and where they may 
be surrounded by all those soothing and grateful 
conditions which go far to reconcile the commit- 



Resting PLACE: Where? 107 

ment of dust so precious to the keeping of the 
grave. 

But it is a notable thing that nearly always the 
demand upon the bereaved head of a family to 
provide a last home for a loved one, comes when 
the expenses of sickness and burial have so ex- 
hausted his resources, as to make it almost or 
quite impossible to do this as he could wish, in 
view of the great cost of a city cemetery lot ; and 
to all such, at so trying a crisis, it would appear all 
but an inestimable boon to furnish him what is so 
needed, not only at a reasonable and low price, 
but in a locality so beautiful and so assured 
against intrusion for all time to come, that in 
these important particulars he could have nothing 
to desire. 

We have elsewhere indicated what are consid- 
ered almost indispensable conditions by the loving 
and refined, in selecting homes for the dead, that 
all that is attractive and beautiful in situation and 
belongings are considered of inestimable value 
by the bereaved who would cherish tender and 
loving memories of friends lost. Let us see, now, 
if there is any locality within convenient reach of 
the great metropolis which fulfils all the desired 
conditions; let us see if numbers who in the past 
have been sadly embarrassed to find fitting burial- 



io8 Rockland Cemetery. 

places for their families will not henceforward 
find that one of the saddest visitations that ever 
occurs to humanity may be somewhat softened 
by the conditions and chances newly put within 
reach. 



If, in the summer time, bidden to lay 
Forms that I love in the darkness away — 

I pray thee, my God, 
Comfort me then with the warmth of the love 
That bringeth the flowers to blossom above 

From under the sod. 

I know that He giveth His loved ones sleep ; 

I know they shall wake where they never shall weep 

Yes, and for tears of the night they shall reap 

Joy of their Lord. 
For, buried in grief, resurrected in love, 
All that is precious ascendeth above 

From under the sod." 



XIII. 

THE ORIGIN OF ROCKLAND CEMETERY. 



Many years since, it so happened that a regular 
rural burial-place was laid out by Act of the Leg- 
islature of New York, on a beautiful mountain 
slope of forest-covered ground facing to the south 
and adjoining the Hudson River and the Sparkill, 
the latter coming down behind the Palisades, the 
place selected for such cemetery being twenty- 
four miles from New York City, and on the west 
side of the river. 

Comprising in its contour and outlook some of 
the most charming scenery on the Hudson, and 
indeed on the continent, its beauty was made 
more remarkable by its rich garniture of trees, 
which besides including oaks, elms, maples, and 
other hard woods, had also a fine array of cedars, 
pines, and hemlocks, evergreens especially adapted 



112 Rockland Cemetery: 

as ornaments to a cemetery, and in most instances 
supplied to these places elsewhere at great labor 
and cost. 

Other features of this remarkably charming 
locality were cliffs and clumps of gray lichen and 
moss-covered rocks scattered here and there; 
lovely open glades and shaded and almost hidden 
nooks and tiny valleys ; whilst from every part of 
this exquisite retreat one could look out over a 
landscape taking in a view of thirty miles in front, 
filled with picturesque farm-houses, elegant and 
costly villas, and glimpses of running water, along 
with the more grand and extended view of miles 
of the " Tappan Zee," as seen from the higher 
portion of the grounds. 

Upon a closer examination by those who for 
the reasons heretofore set forth proposed to 
make of it a cemetery on an extended scale, it 
was found that the rocks peculiar to that section 
were almost wholly surface rocks, and that these 
could be readily and profitably used in the con- 
struction of roads and avenues on the beautiful 
slope. 

In like manner the surplus cedars, which had to 
be removed to make way for these avenues, were 
turned to good account by a most capable land- 
scape-gardener, engineer and artist, in the construe- 



Its Origin, 113 

tion of rustic arbors, seats, gateways, etc., so that 
ever^'thing appeared fairly to conspire to make 
Rockland Cemetery one of the most beautiful in 
the whole country. 

The most exacting and fastidious in the selec- 
tion of a site of this kind could therefore hardl)^ 
imagine any place more fitting than the grounds 
set apart in this instance for the purposes of a 
cemetery. Facing the south — as already noted — 
and so well sheltered as the trees, shrubbery, and 
flowers are from the harsh winds of winter by the 
high lands to the northward of it, the approach of 
spring finds it traversed by the earliest breezes 
from the south, and the birds and all nature seem 
here soonest alive to make the place almost an 
exceptional scene of beauty at that genial season 
of the year. 

All this being apparent almost at a glance, it 
seems but a matter of course that, attention once 
called to it and enlisted in the undertaking, there 
should have entered into it a degree of earnestness 
in developing its beautiful features and capabili- 
ties, until it is becoming already a favorite spot 
with all who are in search of the picturesque in 
scenery of this character. 



xrv. 



THE CARRYING OUT OF THE DESIGN. 



Attracted by all the considerations heretofore 
indicated, an association of capitalists, of capable 
gentlemen who had long seen and felt the needs 
of such a place, decided to take the matter in 
hand, and the result is now being reached in the 
establishment and arrangement of one of the most 
choice and beautiful cemeteries within the bounds 
of the entire Union. 

To specify some of its many excellences and 
advantages, to point out ivJiy it should be consid- 
ered rarely adapted to the purposes sought, we 
need only recur briefly to some of the conditions 
already insisted upon as quite indispensable to a 
place of the kind, and in this case amply supplied. 



ii8 Rockland Cemetery. 

In the first instance, then, situated on a moun- 
tain slope of gentle acclivity, it can never be 
invaded by that — in this age — determined and 
almost irresistible intruder, the modern railroad ; 
for whilst it is true that in the valley below, and 
close within view, the iron horse goes plunging 
by, there cannot ever, in the physical aspect of 
the case, be any pretext for his appearance on the 
slope above. 

Of the possibility of the great city, or of the 
hamlets closer at hand, ever trenching upon its 
grounds, the same may be said ; so that the first 
grand condition of security is put beyond all per- 
adventure — something, as already intimated, that 
can be said of few of these cities of the dead 
located in the plains or valleys below. 

And as by no possibility, from its distance from 
the city, can it ever reach an extravagant scale of 
prices as a speculation in sales of the ground, the 
cemetery lots can in this instance be supplied at a 
rate so moderate as to put them within reach of 
applicants of the most limited means ; whilst the 
fact that the gentlemen who have led off in this 
undertaking have already made it the burial-place 
of members of their own families, gives conclusive 
warrant that with their ample means and good 
taste all will be done that is possible to make it 



Carrying out the design. 119 

second in beauty and excellence to none, far or 
near. 

Already a large number of interments have 
taken place in Rockland Cemetery, the conviction 
of its necessity as a secure place of burial hav- 
ing been emphasized by the fact that as many as' 
1064 former tenants of a city graveyard, whose 
poor dust could not find there undisturbed rest, 
have found a haven and a shelter here from the 
ruthless invasion of their former resting-place. 




View to the Soutli fr<nii Thirtl Plateau. — Rockland Cemetery. 



XV. 



THE CEMETERY AND ITS SURROUND- 
INGS. 



We have, indicated to some extent, in describ- 
ing the origin and locality of the Cemetery, its 
leading features and characteristics, as making it 
rarely suited to the purposes sought, but this little 
treatise would not be at all complete, perhaps, 
without a more specific account and minute de- 
scription of the many attractions around. 

From almost the entire grounds, then, the eye 
ranges over scenes not only of the greatest natu- 
ral beauty, but added thereto is the charm of deep 
historical interest, and to an extent very rare any- 
where else in the neighborhood of the great city. 
With a sweep of vision ranging around the horizon 
for more than thirty miles, extending from the 
Highlands of the Hudson to the ocean itself, some 



124 Rockland Cemetery 

of the most thrilling scenes of the Revolutionary 
War were enacted within the compass designated. 

Looking northwardly, the view takes in on the 
western side eighteen miles off the rocky cliffs 
projecting into the Hudson, comprising " Stony 
Point," the spot signalized by one of the most 
gallant exploits, by Mad Anthony and his follow- 
ers, of the times in which he lived; while on the 
opposite side of the river, within range of view, 
is Tarrytown, where Major Andre was captured, 
and immediately opposite from our look-out point 
is Sunnyside, famous as the home of Washington 
Irving. 

From the same high point in the Cemetery 
grounds the visitor looks down on the Tappan 
Zee, with its miles of shining water ; and within 
the same scope are the pleasant towns and villages 
of Sing Sing, Nyack, Piermont, Irvington, Dobbs 
Ferry, Hastings, and sundry others, as fitting 
ornaments to the broad landscape. 

Turning southwardly, in a front view two 
miles away the eye takes in the locality notable 
once as the " headquarters of Washington," the 
building in which Andre was tried, the spot where 
he was executed, and the monument recently 
erected to designate it and commemorate the 
event. 



AND ITS Surroundings. 125 

Thus it may be noted that from this command- 
ing and beautiful locality the vision can range in 
no direction without finding some object of sur- 
passing interest to dwell upon, the whole made 
more attractive by all that can be comprised in 
the most charming scenery — of forest-clad hill and 
cultivated valley, of rock and river and sparkling 
rivulet and lake, such as seldom combine to de- 
light the lover and admirer of the historical, the 
grand and beautiful. 




View to the South-east from Third Plateau—Rockland Cemetery. 



XVI. 



THE FOURTH AND LAST PLATEAU. 



Looking northward and westward from the — 
at present — highest improved part of Rockland 
Cemetery, we note the portion of the grounds re- 
served and designated as the " Fourth Plateau," 
still more elevated, richly clothed with forest trees, 
and having an almost unequalled outlook upon 
this portion of the Hudson River region, acknowl- 
edged to be almost without a peer, even admitting 
to the comparison the choicest spots in point of 
river scenery on the banks of the Rhine or the 
Danube. 

On the highest and naturally rounded esplanade 
of this beautiful locality it is determined to erect 
forthwith a tall observatory, from the top of 
which to take in at a single broad sweep one of 
the most charming and varied landscapes on the 
entire Atlantic coast. The great advantage of 



130 Rockland Cemetery. 

this will be, that while it can be reached by mod- 
erate grades by which the summit will.be almost 
imperceptibly attained — consequently with little 
fatigue — the vision from this charming elevation 
will include a series of almost infinite views, of 
surpassing beauty and sublimity, of vale and 
mountain, rock, river, and the far-off ocean itself. 

In the foreground, and immediately under foot, 
as it were, we have the Hudson, widening at this 
point to make the lovely Tappan Zee, a body of 
sparkling water some fourteen miles long and from 
three to four broad, its surface at all times dotted 
with white sails, with steamers, barges, and the 
many varieties of river craft tributary to the com- 
merce or amusement of the great metropolis. On 
the hither side, directly beneath the observer, lies 
the pretty and picturesque village of Piermont, 
with the handsome boat-house of its rowing club; 
whilst to the right, amidst clustering dwellings, 
we see the church steeple of the village standing 
out in bright and pleasing relief against the dark 
green slope of Taulman's Mountain ; and further 
in front, the long " pier," from which the place 
takes its name, projects far out into the Hudson — 
a marked feature in the landscape. 

Glancing farther up the river on the same side, 
we see nestling, as if it would hide itself under the 



Fourth and Last Plateau. 131 

bold but sheltering cliff of Hook Mountain, Nyack, 
the termination of the railroad brought to a 
halt at the base of the rocky battlements of the 
Hudson in this quarter, while directly opposite, 
across the Tappan Zee, is the purple-hazed range 
of the Tarrytown hills, where those unassuming 
heroes and patriots, Paulding, Williams, and Van 
Wart, defeated the contemplated treason of Arnold 
by the capture of his unfortunate instrument and 
victim. Major Andre. 

There, too, is " Sleepy Hollow Church," made 
memorable and classical by Washington Irving, 
the edifice erected in 1699 ; and near by is " God's" 
Acre," where the genial and famous chronicler 
of the legendary lore of the region rests from his 
honored and pleasant labors. Directly in front of 
us, near the bank of the river but almost hidden 
by trees and shrubbery, we see peeping modestly 
forth from the rich foliage the unpretentious resi- 
dence which was the famous author's home. 

All this, so rich and varied, and comprising so 
much of beauty and historical interest, is immedi- 
ately about us as we stand upon this elevated 
spot. But raising our eyes and glancing farther 
away, how the breadth and depth of the splendid 
outlook grows upon us, widens and expands to 
the almost boundless and infinite! Away in the 



132 Rockland Cemetery. 

distance, and across Westchester County, with its 
beautiful villas, cottages, farm-houses, and numer- 
ous hamlets contiguous to the metropolis, we be- 
hold the long, shining, and broadening expanse of 
Long Island Sound, dotted with sails, and mingled 
with these we discern steamers moving swiftly 
upon the waters ; whilst still beyond, and appar- 
ently rising on the line of the horizon, is the island 
itself. Finally, still further away stretches a mere 
shining ribbon, the blue Atlantic, meeting the line 
of the sky and melting into and blending in beau- 
tiful harmony with it. 

And now, turning more toward the south-west, 
the vision sweeping the horizon takes in Staten Isl- 
and, the soft-fringed outline of Llewellyn Moun- 
tain back of Newark and Orange, and still farther 
around we have the hazy blue contour, almost like 
clouds, of the mountainous coal region of Penn- 
sylvania ; and farther yet, ridge upon ridge and 
peak upon peak of the Alleghanies, as these ex- 
tensive ranges trend away westward and north- 
ward perhaps to the overlooking summits shutting 
in the broad valley of the Delaware and Susque- 
hanna in that direction. 

The eye, we repeat, takes in all this within the 
broad circle of the horizon ; and standing on this 
pleasant height, how active becomes the fancy, at 



Fourth and Last Plateau. 133 

work peopling the numerous green valleys as 
glances reveal to us glimpses of water and end- 
less visions of beauty almost bewildering in their 
boundless scope. 

Memory is invoked for repetitions of Old World 
scenery with which to supply fitting parallels. We 
call back once more recollections of the beautiful 
valleys which from the Black Forest debouch 
upon the magnificent valley of the Rhine, until, 
fairly tired out with the beautiful and wonderful 
in landscape combination, we descend from our 
elevated post of discovery, whilst the soul again 
and again exults in the presence of a world so full 
of all that can gladden the heart, even when sore 
with disappointment at the struggles of everyday 
hfe. 

" He does well who does his best ; 
Is he weary ? let him rest. 
Brothers ! I have done my best, 
I am weary — let me rest. 
After toiling oft in vain, 
Baffled, yet to struggle fain ; 
After toiling long to gain 
Little good with mickle pain, 
Let me rest. But lay me low, 
Where the hedge-side roses blow ; 
Where the little daisies grow, 
Where the winds a-maying go ; 



134 Rockland Cemetery. 

V/here the footpath rustics plod, 
Where the breeze-bowed poplars nod ; 
Where the old woods worship God, 
Where His pencil paints the sod ; 
Where the wedded throstle sings, 
Where the young bird tries his wings 
Where the wailing plover swings. 
Near the rivulet's rushing springs ; 
Where, at times, the tempest's roar, 
Shaking distant sea and shore. 
Still will rave old Klausland o'er, 
To be heard by me no more ! 
There, beneath the breezy west, 
Tired and thankful, let me rest. 
Like a child that sleepeth best 
On its mother's gentle breast." 



XVII. 

ROUTE TO ROCKLAND CEMETERY 



The route to the Cemetery, and the advantages 
to be gained by the purchase of a lot there, we 
propose to set forth briefly for the guidance of 
those desirous of availing themselves of the oppor- 
tunity now offered in avoiding the heavy cost of a 
city funeral, and, more especially, the heavy cost 
of a plot in a city cemetery, since a lot can be 
purchased in this case for from one third to one 
tenth the cost of a lot in a city cemetery. 

In the first place, it is of importance to note 
that the former costly arrangements for the burial 
of the dead are being avoided as far as possible 
by many whose example, from the high position 
they hold in society, all may well respect. Such 
had become the burden to families ill able to 
afford it of the interment of relatives, that some 



138 Rockland Cemetery: 

of the most eminent of the clergy have led off in 
deprecating the usages formerly in vogue, and by 
most deemed imperative in showing respect for 
the dead. 

As a timely reminder of how matters in this 
respect are changing, word has recently been 
brought from over the water that the burial ser- 
vices at the funeral of the celebrated and widely 
esteemed authoress, Mrs. S. C. Hall, were noted 
for their beautiful simplicity and their designed 
avoidance of the cost in the past deemed so indis- 
pensable in such cases. 

It appears, then, that there was not even a car- 
riage seen at the funeral ; that instead of the costly 
burial case usually in requisition for the distin- 
guished and wealthy, or " well-to-do," the great 
authoress selected an antique oaken chest for her 
last tenement ; and although there were tokens of 
high regard and love from the Queen and the 
most eminent in the land in the shape of wreaths 
and choice flowers, these were not, as usual, 
thrown into the grave, but were, by the previous 
directions of the deceased herself, distributed to 
the sick in the hospitals and the school-children 
where the event transpired ; and the money that 
might have been expended upon a costly coffin 
and other rich paraphernalia was given to the 



Route to It. 139 

little children who sang at her grave, this hav- 
ing been made in the village churchyard. 

It is not too much to sa}^ we think, that sim- 
plicity and economy — a proper economy — in fu- 
nerals, will more and more come into use as 
people see the good sense of such a movement ; 
and in this regard the time for such a much-needed 
reform has come. How such a desirable result 
may be brought about — at least, how it may be 
accomplished b}" individuals favorable to such a 
conclusion — we propose now briefly to explain. 




JJast \ i.\v Iroui TliiJ«l rialeaiu Kockluiul Ceiii.-*ei>. 



XVIII. 



MORE DESIRABLE AND LESS COSTLY 
METHODS OF INTERMENT. 



Let us now suppose the case — one of the most 
ordinary and yet one of the saddest visitations 
that comes to all humanity — the occurrence of a 
death in the family circle. 

At such a time of all others, no one feels able 
or willing to suffer additionally by having forced 
upon them any labor or ceremonial not absolutely 
essential to the final and proper disposition of the 
one whose departure has made them feel that the 
very world is darkened to them by the bereave- 
ment. There are, indeed, duties that cannot and 
should not be avoided ; loving and respectful 
attentions to the departed, such as may, in some 
sense, even soothe for the, moment the deep grief 
suffered, as preparation is made to part with the 
dear form about to be taken from the sight for- 



144 Rockland Cemetery. 

ever. Of course it is natural and proper for sym- 
pathizing friends to come near, anxious to do 
something, where Httle can be done beyond a few 
imperative duties which make and accompany the 
sad occasion. 

Let us then suppose the poor mourners who, 
exhausted after their long night vigils by the bed- 
side of the suffering and the departed, even shrink 
from the sunlight of the garish day — let us suppose 
them in sad consultation over what must next be 
done. Let us suppose that long before, and when 
they were not troubled and half distracted with 
grief, the head of the household had wisely antici- 
pated — as it is the duty of all to do — the dark 
shadow that has at last fallen upon the little 
circle, and provided for that last home that is 
inevitable by the purchase of a cemetery lot. All 
can understand at a glance how much the trying 
duties of the time are narrowed and softened by 
the consciousness of this needful provision, along 
with the readily suggested course which next 
presents itself. 

The friends of the family desire, of course, to 
show their respectful appreciation, their regard 
and love for the departed, and their sympathy 
for the bereaved survivors ; and so these friends 
must be made aware in some way of the sorrow- 



Less Costly Interments. 145 

ful event. A notice in the daily papers suffices 
for this; and at the proper and appointed time, in 
response to the invitation thus given, these friends 
assemble — in the interval, of course, all needed 
preparations having been made by the undertaker 
at the house. 

The morning of the funeral arrives ; the clergy- 
man and the friends assemble, arrive quietly on 
foot, m carriages, or by an}^ other the most con- 
venient public conveyance, and the religious ser- 
vices take place. All that can be done is done 
to show the appreciation and respect and love 
for the dead, and the deep sympathy felt for 
the living. The religious services closed, the 
announcement can be made by the clergyman of 
the fact ; and next, that the interment will be a 
quiet and unostentatious one at a later hour in 
the rural cemetery at a distance. Thereupon the 
company of sorrowing friends leave the family to 
themselves — ever a grateful procedure to the 
shrinking and overstrained sufferers ; and then, 
perhaps an hour afterward, the city undertaker 
again makes his appearance, this time at the door 
with the hearse and one or two carriages. The 
little cortege quietly proceed to the waiting train, 
and in an hour, their destination reached, they are 
received there b)^ the undertaker and his assistants 



146 Rockland Cemetery. 

of the rural cemetery, in waiting with a hearse 
and one or two carriages, and near by the inter- 
ment silently takes place, and the family as quietly 
return to their home. 

Now, no one can look at this presentation of 
the case calmly and thoughtfully and not see 
how much of an improvement it is upon the past 
prescribed way of doing things; the costly and 
oftentimes excessive display, too often a burden 
upon, and an additional affliction to the poor and 
suffering family who were made to feel that only 
in such a way could they show a proper respect 
and love for the dead. We have shown, we think, 
how all this may be propej'ly avoided when at last 
we are constrained to duties which are as inevi- 
table as fate itself to surviving friends ; and we 
think that a growing public sentiment in favor of 
these more simple and less costly and troublesome 
methods of interment will commend itself sooner 
or later to the great mass of the community, more 
especially as all we have indicated can be accom- 
plished without any particular delay. 

The Northern Railroad of New Jersey is 
the route to the Cemetery, and it offers every 
facility in low fares and frequent trains, there 
being twenty-four trains daily, or twelve trains 
each way. 



Il 






k ''% 




THE PARADOX OF TIME. 



" Time goes you say?— ah, noj 
Alas ! time stays — we go ; 

Or else, were this not so, 
What need to chain the hours, 
For youth were always ours ? 
Time goes, you say ?— ah, no ! 

" Ours is the eyes' deceit 
Of men whose flying feet 

Lead through some landscape low ; 
We pass, and think we see 
The earth's fixed surface flee ; 
Alas ! time stays— we go. 

' Once, in the days of old, 
Your locks were curling gold, 

And mine had shamed the crow : 
Now, in the self-same stage, 
We've reached the silver age. 

Time goes, you say ? — ah, no ! 

' Once, when my voice was strong, 
I filled the woods with song. 

To praise your "pink" and "snow 
My bird that sung so glad. 
Where are your roses fled? 

Alas ! time stays — we go. 



I50 Rockland Cemetery. 

" See, in what traversed ways, 
What backward fate delays 

The hopes we used to know ! 
Where are our old desires — 
Ah! where those vanished fires? 

Time goes, you say ? — ah, no ! 

" How far, how far, O Sweet! 
The past behind our feet, 

Lies in the even's glow ; 
Now, on the forward way. 
Let us fold hands and pray : 
Alas ! time stays — we go," 




ROCKLAND CEMETERY, 



AT 



Sparkill and Piermont, Rockland Co., N.Y., 

Within one Jiour of the city by the Northern Railroad 
of Neiv Jersey, from Jersey City. 



TRUSTEES OF THE ASSOCIATION. 
John W. Ferdon. Geo. S. Coe. Andros B. Stoxe. 

Chas. W. Miller. Jose M. Munoz. Wm. H. Whiton. 

OFFICERS. 

John W. Ferdon, President. Geo. S. Coe, Vice-Presideiit. 

Wm. H. Whiton, Secy, and Treasurer. 

Landscape Engineer in Charge. 

FREDK. g. moeller, 

Superintendents of Interrnents. 
J. MARTINE & SON, SPARKILL, N. Y. 

City Office, Rockland Cemetery. 
69 LIBERTY STREET, NEW YORK CITY. 



RULES AND REGULATIONS 

Adapted to the Landscape-Lawn Plan of the Rockland 
Cemetery. 



L All lots shall be held in pursuance of "An Act authorizing the 
Incorporation of Rural Cemetery Associations," passed April 27th, 
1847, and the several acts adding to, altering, or amending the 
same; and shall not be used for any other purpose than as a place 
of burial for the dead; nor shall any person, without the express 
permission of the Trustees, be allowed to be interred therein who 
shall have died in any prison, or shall have been executed for any 
crime. 

IL Proprietors shall not allow any interments to be made in 
their lots for a remuneration, nor shall any transfer or assignment 
of any lot, or of any interest therein, be valid, without the consent 
in writing of the Trustees of the Cemetery, first had and indorsed 
upon such transfer or assignment. By the laws of the State, no 
transfer or assignment of a lot can be made after an actual inter- 
ment in it. 

in. No disinterments shall be allowed except by the consent of 
the Trustees, and upon the written order of the original owner or 
owners of the lot. 



Rules and Regulations. 153 

IV. AH lot inclosures of any kind whatsoever are prohibited, 
unless the style or plan of such proposed inclosure be first sub- 
mitted to the Trustees of the Cemetery, and receive their approval 
and authorization in writing. The boundaries of lots will be 
marked at the expense of the Cemetery, by galvanized iron plates, 
securely fastened at the corners of each lot, or by other methods 
showing the number of the lot and section. 

V. A lot-book will be kept at the Cemetery office, which will 
show by means of accurate diagrams the dimensions of each lot, 
and the precise location of each grave, with the name of the 
deceased. 

VI. Only one monument will be permitted to be erected on each 
lot, the foundation of which, of solid masonry and at least six feet 
in depth, will be built by the Cemetery at the expense of the lot- 
owner. 

VII. Headstones and footstones are allowed, provided they are 
not more than eight inches in height. 

VIII. Stone tablets, not exceeding two feet in length and eigh- 
teen inches in width, may be placed over the heads of graves. 

IX. An order in writing is required from the lot-owner whenever 
a grave is opened. 

X. The planting for rural adornment will be kept strictly under 
the control of the Cemetery. 

XL The Trustees reserve to themselves the right to remove any 
tree, shrub, monument, or inscription that is objectionable or 
injurious to the appearance of the surrounding lots. 

XII. The lots will be sold as they are laid out and mapped, at a 
fixed price per square foot, 



154 Rockland Cemetery. 

XIII. The Trustees, from time to time, may lay out or alter 
such avenues or walks, and make such rules and regulations for the 
government of the grounds, as they may deem requisite and prop- 
er to secure and promote the general object of the Cemetery. 

XIV. The proprietors of lots, and their families, will be allowed 
access to the grounds at all times, observing the rules which are or 
may be adopted for the regulation of visitors. 



'or lots which may be sold after this present date, July, 
i8Si, in the older portion of the Cemetery grounds already occu- 
pied, and where many of the lots are already enclosed with fences 
and the graves furnished with headstones of various forms and 
sizes, said portion is hereby excepted from the rigid application of 
Rules 4, 6 and 8. 



CHARGES. 



Receiving Tomb. 

For each adult $15 00 

For each child under 10 years of age 10 00 

If removed to a lot or single grave in the Cemetery within 
twenty days, the whole deposit will be returned. 

If removed to a lot or single grave in the Cemetery within three 
months, $10 will be returned for adults and $5 for children. 

If removed from the Cemetery, $8 will be returned for adults 
and $4 for children. 

If not removed within three months, the remains will be interred 
in a lot prepared for that purpose. 

This rule will be- adhered to unless special reasons exist for a 
longer continuance of the remains in the vault; and in that case, 
arrangements will be effected with the Superintendent. 

Single Interment Lot. 

Single grave for each adult and opening same six feet deep $10 00 
Single grave for each child under 10 years of age, and 

opening same 7 00 

Single graves for infants under i year of age, and opening 

same 5 00 



i5<9 Rockland Cemetery 



Opening Tombs and Graves in Private Lots. 

Opening tombs or vaults $3 oo 

" adult graves, usual depth, six feet 5 oo 

graves of children under lo years of age 4 oo 

Diagrams showing a plan of interments, with each grave num- 
bered, are furnished to all purchasers without charge, the Cemetery 
retaining a duplicate. 

When interments are to be made, lot-owners should send an 
order by telegram or otherwise to the Cemetery office in New 
York, or to the Superintendent of Interments at Sparkill, N. Y., 
to open the grave, designating it by its number on the diagram. 

Lnformation concerning Lots and Prices in Rockland 
Cemetery. 

The size and shape of lots vary with the extent of the purchase 
and the formation of the ground. A lot 16 by 25 feet containing 
400 square feet is considered a full lot, and gives an approximate 
idea of the size most frequently purchased for a family burial lot. 

At the present time (1881) the prices of lots average from 20 
cents to $1 per square foot, depending upon location. 

Full lots — 400 square feet — can be bought at from $80 up to $400, 
according to location. 

Half lots can be bought at from $40 up to $200, according to 
location. 

Every lot in Rockland Cemetery is in a desirable and attractive 
location ; but some localities are exceptionally beautiful, hence 
the difference in the valuation of lots. 

The prices given include all charges for grading and for mowing 
the grass as often as may be needed. 

Purchasers may select their lots from any unsold graded ground 
which has not been reserved. 



Charges. 157 

All ground will be sold in the forms and dimensions decided 
upon by the Trustees. 

Employes of the Cemetery may be found at the New York office 
or at the Cemetery at all times to attend upon those w-ishing to 
purchase lots. Telephonic communication between New York 
office and the Cemetery. 

To insure the proper regulation of the grounds, the grade of all 
lots will be determined by the Cemetery authorities, and their de- 
cision will in all cases be final ; and to beautify and keep the 
grounds in the best possible order a liberal per cent of the receipts 
from the sale of lots will be set aside and form an Endowment 
Fund, which shall constitute a fund in perpetuity for that purpose. 

Purchasers of lots are reminded that plots will descend to the 
HEIRS AT L.\w forever; and by the law are exempt from execution 
and taxes, and is the only real property ever purchased of which 
this can be affirmed. 



